A warrior's reason
by SeSeesaw
Summary: Why he keeps going.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A warrior's reason

Pairing: Jack/Sam

Category: Angst

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.

Author's notes: I was feeling melancholy and this happened. Sorry.

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It's the little things that get him through, even though he knows they shouldn't. Even though he knows he should let go of these things.

The soft feel of her skin.

The gentle fragrance of her hair.

The soft curve of her lips.

The distant memory of shared body heat.

Letting these things go means he too would be freed. It would mean that he could maybe, just maybe find another. Another he could touch, could hold, a companion.

But he can't. He can't let go, he fears that if he does there will be nothing of himself left. So it's the little things that get him through the lonely nights and long days. It's the little things that give him hope, and it's his hope that he fights for.


	2. Chapter 2

It's the dead eyes that get to him. Eyes that once reflected so much life are now only filled with desolation. He knows that in time it will pass, it always does. But each time it takes her that little bit longer to pull herself together, to get back on form. And he worries sometimes, when he lets himself, that one day it will all be too much and then there will only be dead eyes, that the thrill for life will leave her. One more solider dead, one more friend lost, one more piece chipped out of her soul.

And he knows he shouldn't, knows it's wrong but he just wants to reminder her of the little things that are worth fighting for. Even though, these days, he's not so sure that the little things that matter to him are the things she holds dear, if they ever were, but he still wants to try.

Soup for the soul, that's what she needs. And maybe it's what he needs as well but he won't admit that, not even to himself.

He finds her in her lab, poking listlessly at a piece of technology haphazardly strewn across her bench. She looks up at his entrance but her smile doesn't reach her eyes, the desolation is still there.

He wants to ask he if she's all right and have her tell him the truth. He's not sure what he'll do if he hears her repeat the same old tired line of 'I'm fine'. So he doesn't ask.

"You're too tense, you know that Carter?"

She doesn't argue, maybe she finally knows better then that.

"You always think I'm too tense." She points out in a monotone that sends a cold shiver up his spine.

He could order her home, to bed and comfort food but he doubts that would happen if she went home. He knows from experience a 'good' night these days is downing a couple of sleeping pills and getting 4 hours straight sleep.

"I could help." He speaks in a low voice, half afraid she will hear him, half afraid she wouldn't.

She blinks those dead eyes at him and he moves decisively. He stands behind her and pulls her back until she's leaning back in her chair. He splays his fingers across her shoulders and slowly beings to knead at the muscle beneath his fingers.

She doesn't protest, doesn't move, he doesn't stop.

He focuses on the task at hand, at loosening the knots in her neck and shoulders. She's shut her eyes and her breathing has slowed. He tries not to pay attention to her, he tries only to think of the muscles he's working on. He fails.

He slips his fingers beneath the collar of her shirt and he touches warm, soft skin. Her skin feels better then he remembers and he locks away ever second in his memory. She releases a barely audible sigh, her head lolling forward as though a string was cut.

He's always known it was the little things that got him through, that it was important to remember and relish moments just like this so he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most of this opportunity. His fingers still working on her shoulders, he leans forward lowering his head to within a millimetre of her own. He inhales the warm smell of her hair and represses the urge to touch it.

He can feel her composing herself; feel her regaining control of her body. He understands its time to go, that this moment is coming to an end but he's unwilling, just yet, to let go.

She's pulled herself together now, her head no longer lolling loosely. Her collar is pulled down where Jack's hands slipped under to her shoulders, exposing the delicate pale skin of her neck. On impulse Jack drops his head and barely, barely brushes his lips against the exposed skin. He moves back quickly, completely disconnecting himself from her. He's not even sure she felt anything but he wouldn't say anything unless tied and bound.

She quickly rights her shirt and turns to look at him.

Jack is uncomfortable and not for the first time, or last time, in his life he is at a loss for words.

"Thank you sir." It's Sam's turn to speak in a quite voice

He just nods and they both remain silent for a while.

"The little things Sam, they're important." He feels awkward and silly and clichéd saying it but he still feels the need to say it.

It's her turn to nod before her gaze locks with his. The spark's not back yet, he's not arrogant enough to think he could fix it all so quickly but the desolation looks slightly lessened and that's enough for him. Time to leave.

"I'll see you later Carter."

She doesn't fob him off with a fake smile but her gaze doesn't waver either which he takes as a good sign.

It's the little moments in life that get you through. 


End file.
